Hospice

Listen, Dad,
Mom's dead, but
you can dance
with her again.

She's waiting
in the sky, behind
a star, humming
to the music.

You and Mom
can waltz around
the moon forever.
She may even sing

that song you like.
I'll comb your hair,
shine your shoes
and press your old tuxedo.

There's no rush.
You know Mom.
She'd never dance
with anyone but you.

poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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